Another Saturday Night

Have you ever heard that pop song from the 50's or early 60's?

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody
I got some money 'cuz I just got paid
Now how I wish I had someone to talk to
I'm in an awful way

I was singing that after I got home from my weekly Saturday evening workout at the Y. I wasn't feeling as lonely as I used to, but I still had to wonder when I'm gonna get out of this solitary rut. Rather than pick up dinner at Lund's or Kowalski's, I went to the Mysore Cafe (across the street from the Y). The only other patrons there were four Indian guys. It was quite subdued. At least I didn't have to feel too self-conscious about dining alone. The only menu option was the buffet. It was decent, but I wouldn't mourn the loss of the Mysore. It looks to be on its last legs anyhow. (I wonder if watching a muted Red River is affecting my style.)

Two girls (20something, I guess) came in after the men had departed and, for some reason, the host seated them at the same table where the guys had been, next to mine. They were rather attractive, but I only glanced over at them a few times. I wasn't in the mood to make conversation. Even on my most extraverted days, such a move would be exceedingly rare. Has my shyness kept me alone? I've always been exasperated by the apparent shyness of women. Perhaps my joyless visage has discouraged potential suitors. (Hee, hee. "Suitors." Maybe they should be called "suitresses.")

Either way, it's academic. At the end of the night, I'm still alone. I'm much happier now than I was just a year-and-a-half ago, but I don't think I'll be truly happy til I have a girl to call my own. Sappy, but true.